Pedigree
by Kaitsurinu
Summary: Continuation to The OneEared Neko. With tensions and violence escalating, his family scattered to the wind, and all he struggled for in jeopardy, Duo Maxwell finds that even trying to avoid war is war. [HD, TQ][Violence, Language, Angst]
1. The Last Great Bohemian

A/N: It's been a long time in coming, and even longer has it sat, languishing, on my hard drive, waiting to be posted - the first chapter of One-Eared Neko's continuation. Be warned, though. This story is no where near as finished as Neko was finished when I posted that nearly two years ago. Considering how much other works I'm currently still dedicated to, seeing as how I can never really abandon a project, and the amount of work and planning it'll take, be willing to give it a little time to get on its feet. It's a lot more complex, plot-wise, than Neko ever was. But if you're looking for angst and a very moody Maxwell and his Traveler, then you've come to the right place, my friend.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood, Shameless Political Plugging

* * *

Pedigree

By Kaitsurinu

_'Even trying to avoid war is war.'_

* * *

Part 1 THE LAST GREAT BOHEMIAN

_"Politics is not a bad profession. If you succeed, there are many rewards; if you disgrace yourself, you can always write a book." _- Ronald Reagan

It was a familiar scene. The sets would change, inevitably, but they all held a striking and discouraging similarity to each other. They were no different beneath the skin and he no longer cared about how they appeared. Every single one of these hotel rooms could be nothing but velvet and champagne, or they could be bone-bare and already in use by a militant occupation of cockroaches, and Duo would still find a way to strip down the situation to the naked and unpleasant facts. He was alone. He had to get up out of an uncomfortable bed early the next morning for work. The lights were dull, the day before always had found its way to become stressful and never-ending, his conscience was prompt to remind him of his olden days, and most of all, that he was far from home. And to a gypsy soul like him, he had found his only true home in his lover. One who was currently miles and miles away, no doubt curled up with a good and lengthy book to medicate their separation. He would be just peachy to let himself be lost in the escapism provided by King and Dickens. _He'd_ be fine, sleeping away the time so it eased the slow passing of the minutes.

That was one of the topics of discussion he'd opened up in his mind that night, while nursing his own withdrawal with another addiction. Nicotine was his companion, with a half-burnt cigarette glowing in the shadow of the hotel room like the only evidence he was alive. He watched down his nose as the tip illuminated orange red, dimmed, and brightened with each drag. He tilted his head back to free the curling smoke in a stream to the side. His single feline ear twitched as he did so.

It was silent in the room, save for the whirring of some distant ice machine and the gentle hum of a sleeping building. It was from the opened window that came the miscellaneous noise of engines going by, of feet passing on the sidewalk below, of the dull, audible pulse of the city. In the suite near the top of the Hyatt, the door had been closed and locked. The hallways just outside were calm and undisturbed, and almost eerily so. The floral print carpet was lovely and fine in itself, but it, like the rest of the impressive building, only seemed to remind him of what he'd left behind. And in turn, that loneliness only made him imagine the traveler reclining in the armchair in the living room of their temporary house, drifting off blissfully.

He would be a little past the middle of the book, whichever one he'd picked out of his collection to re-read, and he'd be eager to continue on, but his body would disagree. The picture was relatively clear in his head, though he was a little weary-eyed himself—he'd happened in on Heero while he'd fallen asleep many a time late at night. Sometimes he would start awake when Duo stepped in the room, and sometimes he'd be too far for retrieval and he would take pleasure in carrying him up to bed like he weighed nothing. And to him, he did weigh next to nothing. His full-blooded Nekonese grandparents would have been able to carry a full-grown elk bull and thin little Heero was as light as a feather in comparison. His head would loll drowsily off to the side, resting against Duo's shoulder as he was roused from his bed. Just recently he'd been diagnosed with a slowly growing farsightedness, and his reading glasses would be hanging on the edge of his handsome nose.

Duo sucked on the end of the cigarette with regret. This was why he hated "business trips." He always had to bring up the most endearing memories that would make his heart fill with frustration at his head for doing such a thing when his flight back wasn't for another three days. And each of those promised to stretch out as long as was physically possible in light of the unpleasant juggernaut of extensive press interviews, debates, and hours of strategy meetings planned for him in the days to come. Politics were peachy. Just fucking peachy.

The ambassador was seated in a room of uninterrupted darkness, highlighted by pale gray-orange glow from the glittering lights outside the windows. The lights had been off for a while. He had never minded the dark before, and it felt like a little sanctuary from even himself, where he couldn't be seen by anybody else and therefore reminded less by those people that he was only a certain percent human. And unlike most of the people he'd dealt with, the shadows could be counted on to be there every night at the same time, offering the same protection and anonymity. Each of the two queen-sized beds remained pristinely made as they had been that morning, and Duo had dragged a chair to the window, where he sat now, brooding with a cigarette. Occasionally, his stare would remained fixed out into nothing while he reached up to tap the ashes out into the ashtray on the table against the wall. Other than that, he simply watched the cold night proceed unimpeded by his little Heero-withdrawal dilemma.

Funny, it was pretty important to him. He was convinced that Time should either get the lead out and bring him back to his traveler, or just stop all together. _Enough with this slow crawl already. Make up your mind._

There was a suitcase chucked onto the floor. There were a few articles of clothes lying around, discarded suits and ties, and remnants of frequent, anxious meals scattered on almost every flat surface to be found. An empty cigarette pack sat next to the sink on the other side of the hotel suite. Nestled between the two lush, untouched beds, the digital read-out of the clock declared it to be 2:02 in the morning. Eventually, Duo tired of his pointless vigilance, and his cigarette ran down to the filter and he was forced to abandon this endeavor and whatever he had been trying to accomplish by it. Before he stood up, though, he felt he should have come away with a moral from his lonely watch. Well, he should stop smoking, yes—but there was nothing else he could think of.

He snorted. _Well, whoop-de-do. There's one for the philosophy books._

He turned his head, observed the time, and packed up his moping station. He took a final, drawing drag off his spent cigarette and dug the butt into the ashtray. Standing up, sore and drawn, he put his hand on the lifted windowsill and let the breath of smoke out into the cold air before shutting it and twisting the lock with a flick of his wrist. He let the chair sit there without him and continue the watch. The ambassador ambled toward one of the beds with no real hurry and peeled off clothing and tossed it to haphazard corners of the room. A leonine yawn manifested itself and his jaw stretched wide as he sat down on the edge of the bed to peel off his socks. He felt hampered by the stuffy clothing on such a humid night. As soon as he got them off and let 'em fall to the floor, he rolled onto the covers. He sighed, dressed in little else than boxers, the watch he'd forgotten to take off, and his hair in a braid that now reached just below the bottom tip of his shoulder blades. One last pining movement with his hand dragging over his tired face, and he wrestled himself under just the cover and rolled over onto his side. Sleep came a short time after that, though it begrudgingly granted him his repose.

That particular floor of the Hyatt finally had its peace and the dominating silence returned, while everybody slept and the midnight-shifters downstairs sat around idly, as if asleep.

The one-eared Neko lay heavily in exhaustion on the forty-ninth floor, and in security. He himself could defend himself just fine and his wounds healed much quicker than they ought to, but that didn't make him immune to a well-placed gunshot. So, like many of the other politicians who had stayed at the hotel, there was security posted in every corner to carefully monitor who came and went past his door. While the ambassador slept, there was a small sign of life in the third elevator shaft and the polished metallic doors parted to let out its passengers on the forty-ninth floor. The security guards nodded to them when they presented their laminated id as they passed and exchanged goodnights. And when they had passed out of sight, the idyllic trance returned to the entire floor, permeated by soft, golden lighting.

The only occupied room on the floor was encrypted by the silence of the night, and the tomb-like serenity was only disturbed when the ambassador would roll over in his exhausted sleep and growl through his teeth at some dream-generated enemy. Other than that, it remained a dark, disordered and lonely hotel room faintly smelling of cigarettes, and Duo remained terribly lonesome for his home in his gypsy heart. He finally drifted off into a deep, weary sleep, and his senses didn't give so much as a twitch when the lock on the door to his room whirred slightly as the card key went through. He slept motionless when it swung open.

A glowing orange square flowed into the hallway, and the open door was filled with two bodies, one much smaller than the other, until the taller form shifted a luggage bag onto the other shoulder and shut the door behind them. The intruders remained silently in the hallway, and the smaller peered cautiously at the sleeping ambassador through the dark, who was too far deep to know what was happening. The younger smiled brightly, pleased they had not woken him.

Moving cautiously, mindful not to make a noise more than what was necessary, the older intruder reached down and gently took the younger's bag and put it and his own on the floor as silently as he could. Two dimly glowing blue-green eyes turned to look up at him, over a smile, and the older put a finger to his lips. The message was understood and the small shadow enthusiastically crept toward and hopped onto the other bed, making as little noise as possible. The springs creaked beneath his weight as he landed, and both paused to look at the sleeping one-eared Neko to see if it produced any reaction.

He snored a little. The small intruder stifled a cute laugh at the ungraceful noise and the taller one also couldn't help a grin as he sauntered in. While the young shadow quickly went about taking the pillows and blankets from the opposite hotel bed and constructing a cozy circle of fabric, his older accomplice peeled off his shoes and socks as he tread over to the bed where the ambassador snored obliviously. Even as he was unbuttoning his shirt and still reveling in a grin at how preoccupied the bohemian was with his sleep, Duo did not even stir. Standing on the opposite side of the bed, the intruder kicked off his blue jeans before lifting up the covers and slipping beneath.

Peeking over the circle of pillow and blanket he'd formed on the other bed, the smaller one simply smiled and laid his head down.

With the covers momentarily lifted, Duo's bare back could be seen as he lay nearly perfectly still in a heavy sleep, facing the wall where he had spent the night with a fuming cigarette and a mulling mind as his obscure bedfellows. The man slipping cautiously in beside him had to smile again in amazement at the lengths Duo's depressing nights alone would drive him to simultaneously neglect himself and try to forget, but at the same time, recall every heart-breaking detail of just why the night was so lonely. His hair, now brushing at the ending curve of the small of his back, lay on the pillow beside him, braided still and knotted to hell, no doubt. Five gentle fingertips wrapped around it and clutched it in his hand as the silent shadow drew close. Running his fingers over the long plait of hair, he chuckled huskily, and still he went unnoticed. While the ambassador snored soundly, the hair-tie binding his rat-nest was taken out and the tangles gently worked through by the comb sitting in the night stand drawer and the intruder's fingers.

When it was fully unraveled, each of the three individual sections were as combed through as could be managed, and he admired the sheen to the sublime wave in the artificial moonlight of the orange glow from outside the window. The ambassador was subconsciously stirred by the ministrations and hummed pleasantly in his sleep. Finally, the intruder was able to get close to Duo, guiding his precious hair out of the way for him to nuzzle against his back. Immediately, the one-eared Neko let out a satisfied purr and began to slowly awake. The warm pair of lips traveled from his shoulder, to the crook of his neck, and brushed temptingly past his lips to his temple. With another smile, they parted to whisper in his _ikkunnoi_ in such a sensuous fashion it could have electrified Duo, had he been fully conscious to process it.

"Welcome home, Duo," he bid him in his best husky voice.

The sleeping ambassador was now filled with a sublime, rolling purr, something he rarely did while fully wakeful and something Heero relished and pursued. He rolled over immediately to bury his face deep into the skin of his lover and inhale deeply his smell, ten times better and more intoxicating than any stick of nicotine. Too drowsy to open his eyes yet or even realize what was happening, Duo simply purred happily at the familiar scent of his husband and his swimming mind was quick to urge him to grab ahold of the comfort he'd found and hold tight.

Heero found himself being commandeered into the grip of his bohemian's arms, powerful enough despite their deceptive appearance to crush him, but as tender as grace when they wanted to be. The one-eared Neko's face warmed with a lazy smile as he rolled over, heated by the new source of heat pressed to his body. While Heero chuckled quietly, watching the sleepy Duo clumsily but surely wrap his arms around him, his hands also wandered to find his face and to kiss him when he finally found his lips.

Duo hummed, running his fingers through the traveler's hair and bringing their mouths together again, tighter, hungrier. He purred still, and Heero welcomed it all as his husband lazily curled over on top of him with the effortless prowess and the casual passion of a panther. After all, he wasn't the only one who suffered solitary nights staring out windows at the rising white chalk of the moon. He didn't mind being kissed, and so slowly and intimately at all, but as Duo began to slowly regain his mind from the claws of sleep, he felt the lips regretfully relent and draw away.

The ambassador's feline ear twitched and flittered back and forth drowsily and finally his eyes blinked open, still ringed with heavily indebted black bags. He blinked again in mild confusion while the haze in his mind cleared. The irises were glowing a faint violet as they fluttered at him. "Heero?" he asked, the purr melting away. The surprise was beginning to take hold, now with their bodies entangled. "What are you doing here?"

"Coming home," he answered happily, content to simply lay beneath the bohemian and watch those eyes glow at him all night. He laid a hand on his husband's warm back to let him know that he was not another figment and it shifted when he took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh of surprise.

"What? Weren't you going to stay back in Boston for the week? I never thought you'd actually come to New York—I thought you hated this city!" he said, shaking his head in shock.

"I hate listening to the air conditioning all night long even more," Heero confided in him with a subtle smile. That lovable comment earned him another brilliant smile in return and an enthusiastic kiss on the lips. The traveler smiled and fell into it, all the worries and stings of reality lost on him as he returned the gesture. He'd really missed him, that mouth, that grin. They took their time getting reacquainted and both thoroughly enjoyed it, kissing his husband, filling with the heat of Heero's passionate mouth and body, both moving to the nocturnal, humming rhythm of the dark room. Heero's enthusiastic lips were at Duo's neck and the one-eared Neko's hand fisted in the pillow next to his head when there could be heard a tiny little snicker.

Both froze, one _ikkunnoi_ twitched, and the little blonde head that had been peering out from over the wall of blankets and pillows on the adjacent bed ducked down quickly, but the tips of Quatre's feline ears still showed as they swiveled back and forth.

Duo was the first to react, and he started laughing, still raised up on his arms and burying his nose into his husband's disheveled hair. Heero, however, was not so casual about it and felt a little heat rising up in his face to be caught making out in front of his child—and to get a snicker, no less! Eventually, he managed a smile and his embarrassment was lessened when Duo crawled out of bed and crept over to the other bed, grinning madly and reaching out toward the giggling lump.

"Look what we have here! An intruder?" He made a mock-growling sound as he swept down and scooped up the giggling kit.

Quatre laughed as he struggled to break free of Duo's grip, kicking as he was held tightly against his father's chest and kept prisoner. He was older now, growing rapidly as well, and, in Duo's opinion, he'd probably make a four feet by the end of next week. Not the tiny, red-eyed kit that had been rescued from a fire in a scar seared in the Congo, but not yet a full-grown Neko. He shook his head, his cinnamon-colored ears flattening on the top of his head. "No, no, I wasn't—"

"I don't know," he drawled, tilting his head to glance back at Heero in counsel. "Should we believe a scoundrel like this one? I mean, he looks like an awfully tricky fellow. And you know you can never trust those types!"

"Oh, definitely not," Heero said with a smirk, catching the implication.

While their son struggled to get free from his father's strong grip and not to simultaneously laugh, Duo turned and looked sideways at Heero. "Well, you know what happens to _troublemakers_ when they caught—" he drawled, his arms containing a wriggling, giggling, and pushing bundle of energy with ease, lined by the hazy, pale orange tint of the city lights outside. The honestly playful look in his eyes as they glowed silver in the dark, catching slivers of light, told Heero silently just how much he had missed them, his family. He felt nothing short of euphoric and it made his face ache trying to contain all of that bliss in just one smile.

"They get 'the Slammer'," he said as seriously as he could with his lips running happily away with him.

" 'The Slammer'," Duo repeated, grinning.

Trapped, Quatre let out a squeak and, still resisting a laugh, began pushing his feet off his father's chest. "No, no, not 'the Slammer'!"

"Oh, yes, yes!"

And he was dropped into the pile of pillows and promptly tickled with enthusiasm. The play-fight continued when Quatre rebounded, with a pillow in hand as he pounced in return on Duo, trying to pin him with his soft, fluffy weapon. He gave into the overwhelming attack with a groan and a dramatic hand over his heart, playing it up, doing anything to make his precious adopted son happy. It had felt like ages since they had last been together. All of them, their family. It made Heero's heart swell to think of the word in context of the once raging and distrustful bohemian, to place the image of his impassioned faces and exhilarated smiles in the same thought as the memories of his embittered eyes. Compelled to his feet by the thought of his lover, he decided to get in on the game and when Duo turned his head to face him, sprawled on the bed, defeated by Quatre and hair mussed from the pillow, and was about to open his mouth and ask for a little assistance, he brought his own pillow swinging down.

* * *

Sometime later, the ambassador's son, as the press had so affectionately dubbed him, lay in a lump of blankets and pillows, sleeping soundly. His blonde hair splayed out and two cinnamon-colored _ikkunoi _twitching in his dreams, it was the only visible part of him, the rest otherwise concealed by the comforter thrown over him. To the dim hum of the night was added the sounds of the young Neko snoring lightly, and the comforting, ocean-like rhythm of Heero's breathing next to him. Duo could feel it running over his skin; he sensed it like the tides felt the pull of the moon, constant and fulfilling as he silently kept vigilance over his sleeping husband.

Even surrounded by the loved ones who had once been the rational reason for his insomnia, even warmed by the body of his lover, even with his restless heart put at peace, he still lay wake deep into the unseen hours of the night, unvisited by even the slightest drowse. And he hated it.

With his ear flattened in frustration, he simply ran his eyes over Heero's face without end, hoping and simultaneously knowing that he would not find sleep waiting for him, only taunting him from an unreachable distance. Without his Traveler, he was kept awake by his thoughts, and with him, his innocent face of sleep and his undying urge to keep watch over him stole any chance for some shut-eye. He just could not win at this strange game named sleep, and that resigned depression manifested itself in one, long, tired sigh. Through a half-lidded stare, he watched the shadows and the dim, gray-orange haze doze upon the finely expressive features of the _hienn_ that lay with him. Duo still felt his heart keen out for him as if he were only an illusion created by his loneliness to further excruciate him, he still felt the cold riff of separation even when he could count every eyelash, feel the very croon of his pumping heart in the air.

It broke his heart to be away; it broke his heart again to see him. Just to see how beautiful he was and to know that he'd ever once had the nerve to even think of pushing away that face and that equally powerful spirit that lay beneath it. That was Duo Maxwell's eternal dilemma. Not did one day pass where he had ever not thought of his family's untimely slaughter, he had told his traveler once, back in those painful and hazy days where he had told himself so many times he hated him if only to prevent him from falling for that unaware, naive creature. And now, that still held true—But to that burden was added the fact that he could not go a day without thinking about Heero, either cursing his luck if they were apart or wondering how he could have fallen so heavily for him while they spent the morning avoiding the rest of the day together in an unmade bed. His heart ached a little everyday, fearful when he ran his fingers through his hair or just watched him sit at the table with his coffee and newspaper that his heart would simply cease to function if he should just be gone the next morning.

It had always had been his greatest fear. It had hid beneath a thick layer of distrust for the entire human race, masqueraded as hatred of his innocence, took last resort in contempt for his stubbornness and refusal to let him die for his crime, as he had finally resigned himself to do. And Heero had simply overlooked that and bared him open anyway—no matter how many empty threats Duo had thrown at him in the process. That was what made the one-eared Neko still find it difficult to keep his heart in his chest when he looked at Heero, even as the months and the years heaped upon him. That passion that became his stubbornness to stay with him was something he never got completely used to, never felt indifferent to, not something he took for granted. And it was all for him. That was a nice feeling as well, when he'd spent so many years alone and bitter.

Duo sighed again, shifting again beneath the comforter that could not comfort him to sleep again, so that he could lift his hand. Though his hands were much rougher than Heero's, covered in scars and nicks and calluses from his previous thieving lifestyle, he needed only to be close to be able to feel the actual throb of his heartbeat, and ran his fingers over his face and down to his chest. He felt it humming through his skin like a pounding electric wire, reassuring and absolute proof of life. Such a simple rhythm meant the difference between life and death to him, between night and day in Duo's heart, and he swore that he'd die to protect if he had to, for he wouldn't live without it.

Funny, how much he had come to need one single person more than he needed to eat, to drink, to sleep, and it all had probably been in place after that night at the carnival. There had been no pivotal moment; Heero had gotten under his skin even seconds before he had met him and crept beneath it, smelling of alcohol and boredom and even hopelessness as he walked toward his fortune-telling tent. Duo had been aware of his tendencies to fall into addictions back then, but the severity with which it effected him in the Traveler's case had straddled the line between ridiculous and terrifying. And it still was, for he had many nights like this.

Duo felt Heero coming awake before he moved, feeling the tiny fluctuations as his heart slowly woke up and brought his mind with it. He drew in a long, sleepy breath as he managed to crack his eyes open for a moment, looking drowsily at him, and moved his arm thrown over Duo's waist to take hold of the hand resting over his heart. Their fingers intertwined and Heero made a sleepy, incoherent sound as he mumbled, only partly conscious of what he was doing.

"I'll still be here tomorrow morning," he slurred sleepily, his face softening as he started to fall back into dreaming. "Just get some sleep, Duo."

The bohemian smiled at him and gave in willingly to the command, though he secretly doubted how likely sleep was for him, especially of late. "Alright," he told him, taking his hand from Heero's chest and being pulled closer by his husband. He looked one more longing time at that flawless, dreaming face as he fell back into the arms of sleep, and then finally nestled his head into the pillow and let his burdened lids fall over his eyes.

And in a few minutes time, the shadows found the ambassador curled up against his traveler, snoring again.


	2. Treaty of Versailles

**Assorted News Clippings**

(As Pasted in Dorothy Catalonia's Journal)

From the _New York Times,_ July 17th, AC 199

**GUILTY!**

**Nekonese Con Artist Duo Maxwell, Captured Days Ago, Found Guilty of Attempted Murder and Aggravated Assault of Senator Peacecraft in Cinq, Confesses to Countless Other Crimes**

**Peacecraft ****Supporters Call for Harsh Punishment to Set Example of Zero Tolerance of Hate Crimes by Nekos**

From the _New York Times,_ July 18th, AC 199

**CONVICTED FELON MAXWELL TO BE FIRST INTER-SPECIES AMBASSADOR**

**Nekonese Con Artist Duo Maxwell, Captured Days Ago, Found Guilty of Attempted Murder and Aggravated Assault of Senator Peacecraft in Cinq, Confesses to Countless Other Crimes**

**Pleads Out to Sentence of Service for Life**

From the _New York Times,_ July 23rd, AC 199

**MONSETT ATTEMPT TO APPEAL PIVOTAL PEACECRAFT V. MAXWELL**

**Prominent Prosecution Lawyer Monsett Claims Mistrial; Wants Sentence of Clemency Overturned in the People's Best Interest**

**"Non-Human Beings Are Not Provided Constitutional as a U.S. Citizen Rights in a Court of Law, Thus a Mistrial Was Had; the Supreme Court's Judgement Must Override for the Nation's Welfare"**

From the _New York Times,_ July 24TH, AC 199

**INTERSPECIES AMBASSADOR WEDS FORMER PEACECRAFT ADOPTED SON**

**Convicted Felon Duo Maxwell Marries Son of His Assassination Target in State of New York**

**Right Wing Outrage Flares; Anti-Neko Groups Declare Union Invalid** **Upheld by 26th** **Amendment Legalizing Marriages of All Genders**

From the _New York Post,_ July 25th, AC 199

**ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH SPEAKS OUT ON THE 'NEKO ISSUE'**

**Pope Leo XXII Issues Official Stance on Nekos, Inter-Species Relationships, and Nekonese Rights** **Calls for Petition of the Unholy and Immoral Abetting of Unnatural Abominations **

**Does Not Recognize Persons of ANY Nekonese Descent as Members of Catholic Church, Retroactively**

From the _New York Post, _August 1st, AC 199

**GROUP OF TEENAGERS FOUND DEAD ON MONTANA BACK ROAD, MAULED**

**Buckwheat High School Students L. Mueller, C. Trent, and D. Bunt Killed in Car Accident, ****Says Sheriff Montgomery, ****While Dragging Young Neko Three Miles From Bumper**

**"Looks Like the Mother Found Them"**

From the _Boston Herald, _August 14th, AC 199

**FIRST NEKO BILL PROPOSED IN CONGRESS **

**The Maxwell Act, Named for Inter-Species Ambassador, Would Grant Persons of Nekonese Decent Equal and Protected Social Rights; Faces Strong Resistance from Senate and Anti-Nekos** **Opposing a Congressional Hearing on Inter-Species Marriage **

From the _New York Times, _August 23rd, AC 199

**BLEEDING SUMNER TURNING IN HIS GRAVE; CONFRONTATION IN CONGRESS**

**At Congressional Meeting, Senator Peacecraft Delivers Speech on Hot-Button Neko Issue, ****Releases Name of Relative of Pro-Equality Activist and Delaware Senator Turner as Nekonese, Is Physically Charged and Struck by Enraged Senator**

**Foresight to Another Civil War?**

From the Portland (Me.) _Press-Herald_, September 2nd, AC 199

**HOME-TOWN SLAUGHTERHOUSE**

**Bodies of Twenty-Five Fully Grown Nekos Discovered Mutilated, Starved, In Basement of Retired R.N. Melissa O'Brian and Ex-Marine Officer Frank O'Brian; Community Shocked**

From the Chicago _Daily Tribune_, September 27th, AC 199

**ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL SOMEONE LOSES AN ARM**

**Twelve-Year-Old Boy Attacked Outside Grocery Store, Checks Into South Metro Hospital, Springfield, Missing Right Arm; ****Half-Neko Girl in Question No Where to Be Found**

**Older Brother Claims "We Were Only Having a Little Fun—She** **Freaked Out!"**

From _USA Today_, October 5th, AC 199

**MAYNARD V. JAMES VERDICT OVERTURNED**

**Sole Parental Custody of William Aaron James-Maynard to Clarice James is Revoked When Discovered to be More than a Third Nekonese; Custody is Granted to Human Father Aaron Maynard on Appeal to Supreme Court**

**Outrage Pours from Pro-Equality Organizations, Announcing the "Death of the 14th** **Amendment" **

From the _Los Angeles Times,_ October 12th, AC 199

**PETRACH TRESPASSING CHARGES DROPPED**

**Brandon Petrach Is Cleared Of All Charges After Trespassing on Federal Reserve Land to Kill Three of Eight Known Nekos Inhabiting Yellowstone Preserve**

**Other Five Nekos Found Dead; "Contaminated Water," Says Game Warden**

From the _Universal Equality Tribune,_ October 29th, AC 199

**SARA LYNN CHAPMANN'S DEATH—NEKO MURDER OF NOT-SO-INNOCENT WOMAN!**

**Schoolteacher Found Hung From Cinq Streetlight After Disappearance; A Bigot and Racist** **Evidence Reveals Her "Ethnic-Cleansing" Methods Taught to Children Targeted Nekos and Mixed Persons**

From the _American Association for Human Morality Tribunal_, October 29th, AC 199

**UNMITIGATED EVIL AMONG US! NEKO SLAUGHTER OF UPSTANDING TEACHER**

**Sara Lynn Chapman Stalked, Beat, Murdered, and Hung Without Provocation** **The Neko Threat Now Reaches into Our Schools! Our Neighborhoods! Our Homes!**

**Evidence Released by NYPD Suggests Beastial Crime Organization May Lurk Among Us**

From the _Universal Equality Tribune,_ November 8th, AC 199

**DISCINGRATION OF HUMAN MORALITY CONTINUES! THE SALEM NEKO TRIALS BEGIN! THE FINAL SOLUTION!**

**Has the Whole of Humanity Fallen From the Institutions of Logic and Fair-Hearted Reason? **

**V****igilante Violence Against Nekos and Mixed Persons Skyrockets and Unreported Murders Abound! **

**The End of Days (Filled with Human Decency) is Nigh!**

From the _New York Times, _January 13th, AC 200

**AMBASSADOR MAXWELL-YUY ADOPTS ORPHANED NEKO**

**Rescued from Congo Ruins; Last Known Surviving Equatorial Neko-Mix**

* * *

Part 2 TREATY OF VERSAILLES

_"Talent develops in tranquility, character in the full current of human life."_ – Goethe

"Oh, look, another love letter from our favorite people in the whole world: the AAHM," the Ambassador drawled flatly, holding up the envelope with one hand as he skimmed through the rest of the mail with the other and a certain disinterest. Heero took his gaze off the window, quirked an eyebrow at him and took the letter from him, carefully examining it while his coffee sat steaming on the hotel table in their room, Duo reclined in the chair to his left, legs jauntily propped up on another across from him, whistling over the drone of the few cars that passed just beyond the windows. As Heero read the front of the envelope, his face pulled into an expression of tired disgust. Duo caught the small motion out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. "Hm?"

" 'Your Prompt Response is Greatly Appreciated," he read, grimacing at it. "You would think they would know better after eight denials. They honestly believe that you're going to take the time to respond to their Bible-belt harassment—that you'll sit down to write the letter, bother to buy the postage, and then take it to the Post Office just to have them enact another legislature against you."

"No, that's what I have _you_ for, Traveler," he snickered, chucking the rest of the letters onto the table and stretching out on the back of the chair, sticking his arms out at odd angles and cracking his knuckles over his head.

Turning the envelope over, scrutinizing it, Heero scoffed once, and flipped it over to show the diplomatic red wax seal on the back with a raised eyebrow to his husband. Duo rolled his eyes with a smile and, all loosened up, reached for his mug as he snorted and took a healthy swig. "Rather fancy for a non-profit organization, I'd say. They certainly enjoy throwing their money at problems."

"Funny. I haven't seen a dime."

"Well, the American Association for Human Morality is rich, just not in morals."

Duo grinned viciously and flattened his ear, both hands wrapped around the scalding hot porcelain with no problem at all. The tips of his sharp canine teeth showed as he pulled back his lips. "Ooh, what irony." He heard the sound of paper being ripped and turned his head around again, making a face at Heero as he pulled the folded papers from within, tossing the envelope to the table. "You're actually opening that thing? Oh, come on, you don't need to read it, I can tell you what it says."

"All right, then," Heero challenged him, smiling at the letter. "Enlighten me."

With a sigh and a few cracked knuckles, Duo slung his arms behind his head, still lying in the chair at a leisurely angle. " '_To Inter-Species Ambassador Duo Maxwell, we wish to once again put aside our differences and request a peaceful council between you and the founder and president of our organization, Senator Bites-the-Heads-Off-Babies Peacecraft'_—"

Heero imitated the noise of a buzzer sounding, managing to keep an immaculately straight face while doing so.

"What? No way! That's exactly how the last eight of those things went!"

"Aside from the baby-eating part, you're almost right," he said, now unable to resist a chuckle at the disbelieving face turned toward him, single feline ear pricked in curiosity. He turned the unfolded letter toward Duo, who craned forward to see even though he could read the small print from a distance. His brightly colored eyes squinted and his jaw even loosened a little.

" '_Ambassador Maxwell-Yuy.' _Well, fuck me! They're turning red trying to outlaw our little nest of 'bestiality', but in the same breath they're blatantly sucking up to me. They've barely acknowledged you're even alive, and all of a sudden at their convenience they realize I have a husband _and_ I'm happily married, thank you very much and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!" Duo snorted in disgust. "What gives? They're just a bunch of accomplished hypocrites with too much time on their hands, if you ask me. Maybe I will give 'em a letter, just to shut them 'em up and tell 'em to leave me the hell alone, once and for all."

"That's wishful thinking."

"Call me a dreamer, then," Duo scoffed, taking the letter.

Heero smiled soundlessly, gazing at the bohemian as he snatched up the paper and eagerly scanned through it, ready to pick it apart with vicious enthusiasm. "Dreamer."

Duo hesitated and looked knowingly at Heero for a second out of the corner of his eye, slowly drawing a smirk. The traveler returned the look, his smile never wavering, and continued, "A dreamer who's going to be sorry if he doesn't eat now, while he can."

"Nah, not hungry."

When his husband picked up his coffee and took another cautious sip, he glanced over his shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall, trimmed with gold leaf, and let out a little grimace. A few moments later, a sigh came rushing out of his lungs and he slunk back into his seat, letting his head fall onto Heero's shoulder with a protesting groan. The smell of his aftershave and hints of nicotine from his own lips the night before washed over him pleasantly, as he tilted his head slightly, watching Duo crumple against him. He brought a piece of toast to his mouth, still carefully looking at him, and said, lifting an eyebrow at him, "The more time you spend eating breakfast, the less time you can spend working, you know."

Duo blinked at the ceiling. "You just might have something there." He sat up, took the piece of toast from his husband, and stuffed it, freshly melted butter and all, into his mouth.

Heero's face was still for a moment or two, before there appeared a crinkle in his brow and a quirk in the corner of his mouth. "I don't remember mentioning _my_ breakfast." Duo grinned at him around the mouthful of food and managed it down by the time he'd stood up, snatching up Heero's up of coffee for good measure. He let out a sigh and took another swig, all the while maintaining a certain mischievous eye contact. Finally, he returned it to the hands of its owner and let out another sigh. He knew that procrastinating with Heero was the most addictive kind, and he'd catch hell in one way or another if he were truly late to an appointment.

Funny, though, how that worked—Heero was the majority of the reason he would have any appointments to arrive late in the first place, and he would enthusiastically demand Duo's commitment to them, for his sake as well as his own, but yet here he sat, gentle temptation growing his eyes, asking in that way in they did to linger a little longer. He was wicked on the inside, Duo was convinced. But that could be sorted out later.

"It's just in the wrong place, wrong time," he told him, the first step in steeling himself and getting ready to leave.

* * *

"It's every kid's dream to be on television," Duo muttered while eyes trained on the brightly-lit sound stage, every subtle color in the upholstery almost ridiculously emphasized by the armada of lighting bearing down from the darkened rafters. 

How bright would it be beneath the additional harassing of flash bulbs? Unbearably so? Somehow he seemed discomforted to know that would be soon finding out for himself and his face soured all the more for it. The ambassador shifted uneasily on his feet, as restless as he ever was within four enclosed walls, but even more impatient to wrap up another hellish session of public address, beneath the brainless scrutiny of camera lenses and the even less intelligent plague of reporters and their inane questions.

His feline ear was now in a constant flattened state, unabashedly expressing his severe dislike with press conferences, or anything even associated with the word '_conference_'. It was easy arithmetic to him why he should have never set foot in the building—one grudging criminal and too many nosy _hienn _equaled nothing but hefty migraine fodder. It didn't help either that he could hear every pointless question four times as well as the morons asking them.

Duo flopped back against the wall, sneering at the microphones centered about the middle seat on the long, polished table, awaiting him so patiently. He tilted his head back, still scowling unhappily, and kicked at the floor with his black shoes. His only consolation this morning seemed to be the fact he'd found a convenient bypass to that obnoxious suit and tie mandate that had come with this misshapen sentence of his. The one-eared Neko stood just offstage, hidden out of sight by the curtain, in a purely black pair of slacks, a black dress-shirt, sleeves rolled white at his elbows, and a plain red tie looped around his neck, no near a rival for the length of his braided hair, with the tip swinging just at his hip.

And just beyond that curtain lay a sea of reporters, from every corner of the country, ready and willing to verbally take a swing at him, and it was only seven in the god-forsaken morning.

He sighed up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes before they drifted close. "For fuck's sake, don't these people ever think to _sleep_ before they begin their daily regiment of mercilessly hounding me? They'd probably improve their chances of pissing me off even more than they already are."

His ear twitched, swiveling casually to the backstage rhythm, just beyond the curtain in the lights and mirrors of the makeup room and wardrobe—both of which Duo had breezed past, putting no semblance of happiness on those who were supposed to see to it that he was dressed appropriately. He snorted. They were still upset about him strolling up in jeans and an Alice Cooper T-shirt just seconds before they were scheduled for a live broadcast the last time. Anal-retentive bastards. He relaxed slightly against the wall as an irresistible smirk came across his face as the sound of the make-up artist creating some awfully interesting groans of frustration as she complained of his insolence, and how she was unaware when 'asshole-ism' had become a requirement for becoming an ambassador. It was the most amusing part of his morning, thus far.

From the general din he could pick out a pair of footsteps coming towards him, and he turned his head, glancing backwards at the prompter making a beeline for him—he was due on stage in a few minutes. He had a certain, dreadful sense of déjà vu, like he'd done this too many times before, which was the truth. Duo turned his head, glancing backstage into the commotion and machinery that was preparations, pursing his lips with a much less severe tilt than before.

"Man," he groaned, "Heero's late. How long can it possibly take to get coffee at this time of morning? Most likely stopped to flirt with the cashier, with the way my luck seems to be going this morning."

Equipped with a headset and a clipboard approached him, looking relieved to see he hadn't lapsed to his better judgment and left, the prompter warned him that airtime was in thirty seconds, pointing out the small display overhanging the stage, out of sight of the cameras. He nodded at her, and she disappeared back into the fray to complete some other task, luckily not tipping the frantic makeup department on his position. Good, because the last thing he was going to do, after being forced into the political world, after being forced into public scrutiny and animosity, after being forced to roll out of a warm bed with his gorgeous husband at a downright indecent hour, was to be forced to submit himself to a layer of pancake makeup for solely the cameras' sake.

"They want to see me so damn much," Duo sighed to himself as he prepared to go on stage, watching the blue display in the rafters overhead counting down the remaining thirteen seconds to air time, "they can take me as I am, in _all_ my morning glory." And with that, he shoved his hands into his pocket, but not before giving his messy bangs another healthy ruffle, and strolled up on stage, igniting the flooding of flashbulbs he was all-too familiar with nowadays.

* * *

"Ambassador Maxwell!" 

One particularly annoying voice had been raising above the crowd during the entire session, in the scrapping moments when he finished his last answer and the reporters bellowed and scrapped for his attention, spouting his name. One, though, seemed determined to piss Duo off, and much to his chagrin, it was this one who he just could not muster the patience to ignore. So, when he stood up again, tightly clenching his pocket-sized notebook in hand, waving the other at him from near the back, barking out his name, Duo finally pinned his increasingly unhappy gaze on him and sighed, pointing. "Alright, your turn, buddy," he said, preparing himself for the worst question imaginable from this egghead. "Don't wet yourself, now," he added in a mutter, slouching at the microphone.

He eagerly stood as the rest of the shunned reporters reclaimed their seats until the next round. He seemed genuinely surprised that Duo had actually called on him, and that made him all the more intense as he spoke up. "Ambassador Maxwell—"

Duo leaned forward and grabbed the microphone, petulantly pulling it to his mouth. "It's Ambassador Maxwell-Yuy, pal," he corrected, too bothered to put any more emotion in his voice. "And make it quick, if ya could."

"Ambassador," he continued, projecting his voice so it would reach the podium, "the amount of inter-species violence has jumped over three-hundred percent in the last year alone. The public fears something more drastic may be in the making—what do you say is attributing to this sudden jump in crime and homicide between humans and Nekos?"

"Not exactly _quick_," Duo muttered to himself before speaking into the microphone, his red tie lying partially on the polished table. "Aside from the fact that everybody's getting on each other's nerves more, I'd have to say the organization of pro-this and anti-that groups. It's only arming those who want to stir up trouble with the means to do so. Just because you've got a bumper sticker and a colored flyer to hand out in the name of peace won't stop people from disagreeing and taking to their shotguns, and it only pisses the other side off more." He put his chin into his palm, signaling the end of his response, looking rather distant through the whole thing as the crowd once again began jockeying for his attention. Normally, he might have relished as much attention as this, but he was beginning to sympathize with a piece of meat frying in the oven beneath the relentless lights, and it didn't make him any more agreeable.

He pointed to another, allowing her to open her mouth with another question. "Would you be refering to the AAHM, the American Association for Human Morality, Mr. Maxwell-Yuy?"

"Yeah, sure," he answered noncommittally. He'd begun to tap his toe on the floor in boredom. "They're an organization, aren't they?" He nodded again toward someone new.

"The group was founded by Senator Peacecraft, correct? The man you attempted to assassinate?"

Duo didn't look a bit pleased to hear _that_ intelligent question. He frowned a bit, but knew he couldn't go cursing and spitting at his favorite person in the world. When it came to his criminal past, he played the role of an actor rather than his bluntly, brutally honest self, reciting safe, public pleasing lines created by advisers with for these delicate public occasions. "Yes, the AAHM was founded by Senator Peacecraft. But I feel no different about that particular political organization than I do about any others of its kind."

"But every one is aware that you attempted to kill the Senator, not two years ago, and now he—"

"Then what are you asking me for?" Duo interrupted pointedly, letting out another puff of air from the corner of his lips. "That's all I have to say about that, thank you. All right, you with the cheap toupee back there, you have a go at it."

An older reported stood up, no longer quite as enthusiastic about his choice and taking on a distinct shade of red as the room quieted to hear his question. Duo smirked.

"Yes?"

The man cleared his throat and busily moved on with his question. "Uh, Ambassador Maxwell, are you—"

The one-eared Neko lifted an eyebrow at him, leaning toward the microphone with an expectant expression, as the man stammered and corrected himself. "Excuse me—Ambassador Maxwell-Yuy—are you aware that the AAHM, the primary Republican organization for human rights, has just recently gotten blessing from the Vatican for its principles and actions to protect human privilege in this country?"

"More than aware," Duo muttered unhappily. "But," he continued, windily reciting from his mental cue cards, "I have nothing to say either way about the actions that Senator Peacecraft or his organization. Which I already pointed out, if you bothered to listen, thank you very much." He smiled almost savagely, sending the balding man back into his seat to furiously scribble on his notepaper, still tinged red. Another leapt to the chance to interrogate him.

"But unofficially, the American Association for Human Morality, is known as the largest Anti-Neko group recognized by the United States government. And surely, as the first inter-species ambassador, you must not approve of the actions they are taking to restrict the immigration and naturalization of Neko and mixed-race persons—attempting to filibuster the movement for Constitutional amendment for equality and rights, protesting school integration, fundraising to build up anti-Neko propaganda, pushing a gag-law against your so-called 'abolitionist' papers? Isn't it your duty to contest these motions?"

"Listen, lady," Duo addressed her, leaning forward to pin a firm stare on her, "if you want to hear the truth—which is what this whole damn country needs to hear, and start _acknowledging_—then yes, I am not the least fucking bit happy with the AAHM. I don't want to seem too _frank_, my dear, but to me, it's just a Sunday church group of over-righteous Catholics trying to push their beliefs and their bias onto the world behind the façade of innocent bake-sales to raise money for the poor Americans who have to live with 'beasts' like me. And no, I don't approve, but I'm only one person, here—and I might add, not even legally a person at that if the amendment falls through. So, you see I can only do so much. There's only so many times a man can break up fight without going a little insane or eventually getting suckerpunched. In the end, it's the kids fighting who have to get it through their heads that they're acting stupid and settle it themselves. Honestly, how many times have you apologized to someone without _really_ being sorry, and what good does it really do anybody? So there. Don't piss yourself."

* * *

Simultaneously, beside the curtains, far sheltered from the glare of the flashbulbs, Heero stood watching with a cup of coffee in his hand, a few minutes too late and a smirk. He took a drink, which had originally been intended for the man on stage, but seeing how he was busily becoming nauseated by their questions, he drank from it anyway. 

"He's not in a good mood today," he murmured to himself as he titled it to his lips. It was sounding awfully foreboding as he said it.

At his knee stood their young Equatorial son, both cinnamon-colored ears pricked toward his father on stage, surreally transformed by the bright lights and clamoring voices into someone different, but not new. It was Duo at his least glamorous, tired, moody, burdened by politics and surrounded by a hoard of overbearing 'morons' to only further aggravate him. It was not a surprise to Quatre—he was quite attuned to his father's bad moods, especially when it meant he didn't feel like horsing around with him or talking or even moving—but it was surreal and asymmetrical to see him there, resisting any facial expression, every light seeming swooping in and awaiting a twitch or drop of sweat that would spur them on. He did not flash them the disarming smile he saw flashed before Heero, nor the playful corner of his mouth, and least of all any of his good humor.

Quatre watched raptly, fascinated by the defensive tone of voice Duo took when someone encroached on his privacy, the drawling sneer after an asinine question, the bored, uninviting stare in his gaze as he mentally counted every long second. He watched, knowing instinctively that every moment of it was so horribly harmful to his political career, but Duo breezed on ahead despite it. He tilted his head, standing close to Heero as they watched together in silence, focused on Duo's amplified voice, and began to wonder to himself for the first time why they called his father Ambassador. He remained reverently silent, watching intently, until the conference ended and Duo stalked off the stage, offering little more than a trite little smirk and insincere "Thank you," before he left.

Duo nearly plowed cleanly into his waiting husband and son in his understandable hurry to escape the lights, eyes adjusting slowly to the gentle shadows of backstage and scowling at his feet. Nearly toppling the cup of hot coffee, the one-eared Neko quickly snatched Heero's hands to steady it, looking rather pleasantly surprised to see him there. As the brief moment passed, both laughed and Duo greeted him again with a kiss. And not exactly a modest peck on the mouth, either. It was the sincerest form of thanks the ambassador could offer, in sharp contrast to the pins and needles he kept at the ready for the press, opposite the he gentle side he bitterly withheld from the unforgiving public.

"'Bout time you got back, you rat," he whispered in his ear as they pulled apart, smiling wearily. "I was ready to file for divorce up there, you leaving me hanging without some intoxicants in my system like that."

"You wouldn't have stood a chance, anyway. Your track record in court is terrible, and you only scraped by the last time with my help."

Duo smirked. "And look where your help landed me. Sometimes I think I got the rough end of the deal." He winked after they shared a knowing look, only slightly above Quatre's growing understanding. "Except for the 'you' part, of course." He took a sip, sighed in satisfaction, and a darkening look crept into his eyes. "So, where to next? Another meeting?"

Heero only smiled and Quatre grabbed Duo by the hand, looking anxiously excited to leave. "No way, Papa. We're playing hooky," he announced. "Dad's gonna sneak us out."

"Oh, is he?" Duo asked, glancing up at Heero's face. Smug, of course. "Well, then, what are we doing just standing here? Take me away!" And as they started a beeline for the backdoor, Duo and Heero came shoulder to shoulder, the bohemian giving his traveler a careful humorous look. "And was it you who introduced him to the lofty activity known as 'hooky'?"

Heero shrugged, looking straight ahead and letting the corners of his mouth curl wickedly without restraint. "He's learned to swear from you, anyway. I just thought I'd contribute something practical to his education."

And without a word to anyone else of their plan, they simply slipped out and left. It was not in either of their natures to leave notes, anyway.


	3. All Quiet on the Western Front

Part 3 ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT

_"Love is like pi - natural, irrational, and very important."_ - Lisa Hoffman

California and Massachusetts and Pennsylvania and Texas. Eight flights across the Atlantic, six across the Pacific. They'd been sequestered in Cairo for a month, bathed in sun in Florence, crowded and dazed in Tokyo, hosted generously in Moscow, and received warmly in Amsterdam. The Maxwell-Yuy family had been living out of a suitcase since it had come together, and the ambassador had been accustomed to patterns of roaming since he could stand upright. Heero was more than happy to go along, and since their fateful scandal in Cinq, Duo was noticing, with a certain glowing smile, that he'd begun to embrace the rootless-ness, the freedom as much as the bohemian. The traveler never once again walked the same exact path twice, after shuffling through life chained to his passionless routine. And, helpless but to be swept along in the journey, the growing Quatre was thoroughly enjoying it. With entranced eye trained to the window and wide, cinnamon-colored ears flickering eagerly, he saw the world with young eyes than most and absorbed it more quickly than ever could have been expected.

Just outside New Luxembourg, located just at the edge of two hundred acres of isolated Haven forest, the sunlight was falling through the skylights of a secluded two-story and glowing on the carpet, where the lounging orange house cat slept, fat and content. Her ringed tail twitched now and then, but she preferred to move as little as possible at all times. In that same, open kitchen, a little hand was set on the countertop in concentration, holding the piece of paper in place as the other navigated a pencil across it. Cursive letters were slowly but surely coming to life, and the young Quatre, now two and a quarter as he liked to boast, glanced over to the little dictionary that lay open next to his papers.

A single, notched _ikkunnoi_ flickered toward the movement beneath the crooked hat. "What word?"

"Stra-ta-gem."

Duo let out an admiring whistle. "That's not on your vocab list, you know," he said with a smirk, though it was half-concealed by the lowered rim of his black baseball cap.

Quatre looked up at his father, stretched out leisurely on the opposite counter in the kitchen in a rather sinuous and feline posture, basking in the sun, warmed by the black marble countertops as well. "You used it in one of your speeches once."

Chin resting on his folded arms and hat tilted over his eyes, Duo was in danger of falling off in a mild drowse again and falling clean off his perch. He let out an immense yawn, exhibiting the inhuman ability to reveal nearly every one of his teeth in the normally mundane action. He smacked his lips and readjusted his head, his long, braided tail of hair shining vibrantly in the summer light filtering down. "Oh. I did? I don't remember."

"It _was_ kind of an angry speech," the kit reminded him.

The one-eared Neko lifted a hand to rub at his drowsy face. "Which was it again? I forget," he mumbled. "When I ran out of fingers to count angry speeches on, I stopped keeping track."

Quatre had started flipping the pages, scanning the tiny blots of ink for his desired word. Subsequently causing the exposed, lonely feline ear to twitch with each passing page. "Munich, I think," he answered, knocking his toes against the island as he sat on the tall, bar-style chair. Extending lazily down near his heels, curling and uncurling around the wrought-iron legs was his cinnamon-colored Nekonese tail, flicking back and forth energetically.

Duo rolled over onto his back in one fluid motion, yawning yet again. "Ah. I suppose." He smacked his lips and stretched. "Only you would remember a detail like that, little Einstein," he added affectionately as he readjusted himself to fall back into a pleasant catnap.

Funny that he could drop off in a sunny spot in the afternoon without the slightest effort, but he would kill to be able to do the same in a king-sized, downy bed with Heero's warm body lying with him at night. Nocturnal tendencies could be a hell of a drag.

And speaking of a drag—that sounded just right right about now, Duo thought to himself. There was a pack of cigarettes he'd managed to smuggle in the house sitting under the little porcelain fox on the front step. He tilted his head to give his hard-working son a furtive glance, just to make sure that his little, keen eyes were set on his paper, and not dissecting his expression as if he could simply read his mind, see his thoughts in blazing neon across his forehead. It was an uncanny ability of his, that probing insight that was almost unheard of in such a young creature. Duo warily watched his eyes scan across the lined paper, analyzing his movements for any signs of acknowledgment. There were none; his pencil moved at an even pace, forming cursive lines.

When it seemed the coast was clear, Duo casually rolled off the counter and out of the sunny spot where he had laid for a good portion of the afternoon. Feigning his best aimless amble as he padded silently over the kitchen tiles, the one-eared Neko's only incriminating tell as he headed for the door was the single _ikkunnoi_ trained toward the sound of his son sitting at the island. His acting skills strained, though they were not rusted by time, to successfully fool Quatre, the walking polygraph.

How many times had that adorable face scrunched up after watching a press conference, both televised and live, critiquing the horrible lying on the part of the publicity committee present? How many times had he been caught eating Heero's favorite foods out of the fridge and later ratted out by a little blonde kit and the sweet smile spreading across his face as he did so? Too many to take the little rascal too lightly anymore, that was for sure. As Duo turned away, about to casually beeline his way toward the front step, he started to hum happily, harmlessly. He was home free. He was going to get _away_ with it this time!

Until—"Papa?"

Duo's head twisted around to face his son, his smile wide and friendly and inwardly cursing. "Yep, Quat?" he inquired innocently, stretching his acting ability to its limit to cover the frustrated grinding of his teeth that he ached so badly to do. But he couldn't abandon ship—there still might be a chance he could make off, scot-free, this time.

Quatre lifted his paper. "Could you check this quick?"

Inwardly, Duo was ready to sigh and laugh with relief. He turned around, grinning genuinely this time as he started walking back, hand outstretched. "Sure thing, buddy."

A few seconds later, the bohemian had run his eyes over the paper and deemed it worthy. It brightened Quatre's smile and he dropped his pencil on the countertop, next to his opened pocket dictionary, and hopped off the bar chair. "Now I can go play! I'm going out to go outside with Dad, okay, Papa?" he said happily as he started to head off for the backyard, where the regular, metallic cracks of a baseball being struck into what would be deep right field indicated that Heero hadn't finished the bucket of baseballs he'd dragged out onto the lawn.

The husky-mix Heero had insisted on taking in from the shelter in town came trotting back with each baseball clenched in her jaws, curled tail wagging happily, until she came within twenty feet of him and hunkered down, wolf-like, waiting for the next one to be hit. Her lolling tongue would abruptly disappear into her mouth and her ears flattened against her head. From the window, Duo could see Heero calling her over and pulling the slobbered baseball from her teeth and the dog barking and dancing around him as he picked up the bat again. The one-eared Neko looked back at Quatre, running for his shoes, with a little smile on his face.

"Uh-uh, bud. Not just yet. You know you left your Friday chores undone. I let you go to the movie last night with us because you _promised_ me you'd do 'em today, Quat—"

The blonde kit stopped and his whole body drooped with disappointment. Duo loved the expressiveness of a child's entire being and grinned as he pouted. "Oh, come on, Papa!"

"Hey, I wasn't going to assign you chores. Heero wanted to. I'm just the enforcer, ya know, 'cuz I get into twice the trouble when _you_ do—"

Quatre's sullen look had faded to something a little more sinister as he smiled almost craftily and interrupted the older _dires. _"Then I'll tell Dad about those Marlboro cigarettes you hide on the steps," he boasted, his expression as sunny as the day was long.

Duo's face crumpled into a puckered frown. _Damn_. So, he'd known all along. Sly little thing. A bargaining, crooked grin spread itself as he chuckled and strode up to his son, bending over at his waist to be at eye level with him. "Go ahead," he teased. "It's my word against yours, and I'm the love of his life, so just who do you think he's going to believe?"

"Me." Quatre answered warmly, innocently, though Duo knew the underlying sharp comprehension knew exactly what it was doing. The defeated grimace irked at his face again. And that's why he stuck out his hand a few seconds later, realizing with chagrin that the little rascal was telling the truth.

"Well, do we have a deal, my tricky little _nihh-kon_? (1)"

Quatre smiled and stuck his hand in Duo's, twice the size of his. "Yes, I think so," he said politely, pumping the handshake as if he were a professional.

As the two separated, one bounding for the backdoor with his sneakers pounding on the floors and the other stalking toward the front steps, waking the cat as he passed, hands shoved in his pockets, Duo found only one comment appropriate for the situation. He let the screen door clatter shut behind him as he tipped over the porcelain fox and snatched up his precious stash of nicotine and the butane lighter lying next to it. As the spark caught, Duo grumbled to himself, pinching the filter tightly between his lips, "Wouldn't he just make quite the little politician?"

1. Neko for "fox".

* * *

Duo had heard the sound of the bat cracking cease, the pleasant flittering of Quatre's energetic and friendly voice waning, the enthusiastic woof of Joker, but his mind had not paid attention to it. When the sunset had begun rolling down the thickly-wooded hills on all sides of their house, casting golden shadows on the lush green, the layered emerald of trees, and the tiny splashes of color from the wildflowers at the edge of the lawn, he took incredibly long to notice Heero sauntering his way, walking around the corner of the house from the backyard.

For a half-Neko, getting to even a hundred yards' distance without the slightest notice was amazing, and getting within ten feet of the bohemian, awake and aware, was near impossible. But Duo only jerked in surprise and noticed them when Joker came huffing happily toward him, vaulting back and forth at his feet, eager for play, and Heero casually walked up to the front step.

Duo's ear swiveled to face him and he froze up, snapped out of his daze and now surprised. Muscles tensed, he simply blinked at his traveler for a second, painted a golden pumpkin color by the sun going down. It gleamed on the metallic surface of the bat slung over his shoulder, his wrist limply hanging over the narrow end, coolly holding it in place. It also played on the smug smile that took hold of his face.

"Surprised?" he asked.

Duo snorted as if it was a preposterous idea, but smiled softly. "Maybe I was, and maybe I wasn't. That's a state secret."

It was when he sat down on the step beside him that he realized that he was still finishing his smoke, pinched between his lips. It had become almost a second nature whenever he got the craving for a drag, and he'd learned to talk around it adequately well long ago. The trails of smoke drifted lazily out into the colored air, twisting, curling and disappearing within a moment. He looked at Heero and gave a sheepish smile, doing his best to be charming even when caught red-handed.

"Am I in trouble?"

Surprisingly, Heero just took a second glance at the dwindling cigarette and then turned his attention toward Joker, who had taken up a medium-sized stick in her jaws and panted patiently at his foot, hoping that he would indulge her one more time. "No."

He smiled at her, made a cooing variation of her name at her, and took the stick from her mouth. She promptly fell down onto her haunches, her carefree tongue slurped up neatly into her mouth and her blue and brown eyes focused entirely on that stick in his hand.

Duo sighed dramatically, and smiled with honest relief as he brought the cigarette back to his lips. "Man, I could have sworn you were going to breathe fire at me if you ever caught me smoking again. Are you sure that I'm really not in trouble and you just don't know it?" he joked, chuckling as he put the filter to his mouth.

"Nope. Because tomorrow, we're quitting."

A surprised cloud of cigarette smoke burst forth from Duo's crooked, surprised grimace. "_We_?"

Heero took a shallow breath and snorted in distaste as he caught wind of some of the smoke. He also gave him an expression that told him just how attractive that little move had been, and that wasn't very much. "You want to kill yourself with lung cancer?" he asked pointedly.

The bohemian shrugged nonchalantly, but he held the cigarette away from the poor _hienn._ "Yellow teeth, maybe. But not cancer. We Neko don't get cancer—we're just too resilient."

"Okay, then. You want to give _me_ second-hand smoke and kill me with cancer?"

"Like you kiss me enough to ever get second-hand smoke," he answered wryly, twisting his neck so he could take another drag without bothering his staunchly anti-nicotine husband. Of course, he should have known better than to present Heero with a challenge and expect him not to rise up to it.

Heero reached up to pinch the cigarette Duo had between his lips, took it away, and kissed him as he broke out in a laugh. When Duo tried to pull away to laugh, he was pursued as Heero covered his face with kisses, trying his best to ignore the fact he tasted like smoke. The one-eared Neko tried to paw him off, still laughing, and get back his cigarette. It was quickly dropped onto the cement step and ground out by the sandals Heero wore. The last, dying trails of smoke curled up into the air and disappeared.

"Oh, man, you little sneak—!"

Heero's mouth cut off the laugh and, with the kiss deepening, Duo found himself pressed onto his back, lying on the front step as the sun crept toward the horizon, all senses again filling with the traveler, and had to give a grateful little smile. It was better than anything he could think of at the moment.

* * *

"Heero."

The Japanese man groaned in protest at the sound his husband made, already drifting off to sleep as they were sequestered in bed, Duo again plagued by his insomnia and sitting up against the pillow, watching the news as the sky darkened outside. The wind that came teasing in from the opened window carried on it the overwhelming scent of pine, wild grass, and dusk falling, and the flickering, colorful light cast from the television opposite the foot of the bed danced across the blanket, creating shadow and blue light over their covered bodies. Heero lay on his stomach beside Duo, stubbornly burying his face into the fabric of his pillow when he called his name. The bohemian smirked at the display, but nudged his shoulder again nonetheless, uttering his name.

"Hey, Heero."

The _hienn_ lifted his head heavily, squinting at Duo through sleep-wearied eyes. The constantly changing light from the television painted the side of his face, playing on his disheveled hair. "Hnnnhh," he asked incoherently, his expression puckered into the cutest grumpy display.

"The dog's whining. She wants to sleep on the bed."

"What?" he managed out, lifting himself onto his elbows, letting the light fall on his bare, muscled shoulder blades. He remained silent for a minute, his brows drawing together. "What are you talking about? She's not making a sound."

"None that _you _can hear, but she's driving me nuts."

Sleepily, Heero just grunted at the idea, then tried to roll over and reclaim his ticket to Dreamland, muttering his solution to the problem as he got comfortable again. He snatched up a fist full of blanket and yanked it over his shoulder, burying his chin into the crook of his arm. "Just leave her. If we do it once, she'll never learn to sleep by herself," he mumbled, letting out a drowsy sigh. The entire frame of his body swelled up, then relaxed as the breath left his chest, already drifting into sleep.

"Oh, sure. It's doesn't bother you because you can't hear her crying out there," Duo pointed out, miffed, folding his arms over his chest, his long hair lying unbound and slightly wavy from his braid.

With a mildly disgruntled look pinned on the back of Heero's rumpled head, he snorted, his feline ear pursing tightly against his head in annoyance, though it still twitched at the faint but very much continual whining of the adopted dog lying just outside the closed bedroom door. He could just picture her lying in the hallway, her blue and brown eyes turned toward the doorknob, curled tail wagging pathetically.

The images flickering across the television continued, unhindered, and cast the changing shadows and light over the dozing body of the former Peacecraft as he fell blissfully unaware into dreams. The mattress swayed beneath a weight as the body next to him slid out of bed, and a few seconds later, with the telltale jingle of identification tags on a dog collar, a white and gray husky-mix leapt heavily onto the bed, landing on Heero's legs and quickly trotting her way up to her favorite master, her warm, slavering mouth eager and happy to douse him with affection. The seventy pound pet whimpered at Heero in encouragement when she hopped over between Duo and him, her tongue dancing over the back of his neck, making him jump in surprise.

"No, stop it, Joker—" he protested, but soon found himself with saliva being striped up and down his face. He flung his hands into the longhaired down at her chest and forced the zealous thing off him, pushing her away so that he sat up abruptly, cheeks glistening in the light. The look he leveled at Duo would have made others run for the door; the bohemian just laughed and petted the bushy dog as his grin spread wildly across his face.

"That was low," came Heero's accusation, though his warming expression betrayed it. "A typical, low-down rotten scheme. I should have expected as much."

Duo heartily patted the husky on the back and she pressed up against him, laying down in the space between the two men and rolling onto her back in a puppyish manner, inviting belly scratching. "Who did you think you were marrying, Heero? Mother Teresa?" he asked devilishly, tacking on another laugh as he reached out and helped wipe the slobber from his face. "If you did, I think you're going to be _very_ disappointed."

Instead of pulling away, Duo kept his hand cradled on the side of Heero's face and felt him smirk in response. "Disappointment with you is better than satisfaction with anyone else."

"Oh ho! Aren't you quite the charmer tonight?" the bohemian snickered, leaning over closer to his husband. "Maybe I should let the dog slather you up more often, I think it brings out your poetic side."

"Yeah. The drool brings out the color in my eyes," Heero drawled, rolling them briefly and making Duo smile and laugh again, inspiring him to press his lips against that smirk, finding his mouth as soft and pleasurable as always. The perk to having a _hienn_ lover was that smooth and aromatic skin of theirs, compared to the relatively and typically tough and callused skin of a Neko. As he pulled away, taking away with him the faint taste of sweat, the watermelon he'd eaten a few hours before, and Heero himself.

"Trust me, Traveler, you'd make dirt look good enough to eat."

"Easy to say, when you eat like you do," he teased him in return.

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with a little meat in your diet, Mr. Vegetarian, all right? And just you watch, one of these days I'll get you to try one of my best, juiciest steaks and we'll see then who's a vegan _then_," he taunted him playfully, the light from the television shining in the reflection of his deep violet eyes, entrancing Heero for a moment. Duo smiled at him temptingly as their gravity began to draw them together, but the effect was broken as the dog lunged on Duo's back, pushing all the air out of his lungs in one fell swoop, and whined loudly at him.

"Now, _whose_ idea was it to let the dog in?" Heero asked as he pushed her off his husband's back, smirking.

Duo drew his grin across his face in response and was beginning to form the comeback on the tip of his tongue when the electronic light bathing them from the television flickered, changed, and his _ikkunnoi_ swiveled abruptly toward it, bringing his head around with it momentarily. Automatically, Heero turned his head too, jut in time to catch the news anchor's opening words pouring out from the television. The colorful background of crowds and various banners huddled before a stage caught Duo's attention, but it was the report coming in, dubbed over the image of a press conference just underway, that made him sit bolt up in bed, straining to hear, even though he could hear a sparrow flap its wings from a hundred feet away.

"We interrupt you now to bring you to New York City, where Senator Peacecraft has assembled an impromptu press conference. Now, our sources are not certain, but there's a good chance that he will be announcing his retirement and is scheduled to speak within the hour—"


	4. Thorns in the Side of the Beast

Part 4 THORNS IN THE SIDE OF THE BEAST

"_A person is never happy except at the price of some ignorance." - Anatole France_

Further north than most human fingers cared to scratch for survival and deeper yet into the remaining vestibules of forest than most would venture walked a lone woman, slim and fragile in appearance despite her long and obscuring garb. Without a sound she dragged the heavy fabric of her cloak, hood drawn silently and limbs tucked inside. The only flash of color from beneath that shadowy-gray cloth was the occasional wisp of pale blonde hair, and her long white legs beneath her dress, small and dainty shoes stalking their way through the woods. No outstanding difficulty did she show in this either, but walked so fluidly that the trees seemed to sway and sidestep about her. She never altered course, never wavered or faltered on some unfortunate stone.

The thick, breathing heat of the forest had begun to wane as the sun arced toward the horizon and the sky flashed its best colors for its departure. Night came sooner within the forest, though, as the cover of trees hungrily swallowed the light and left the earth bathed in a hazy green blue glow, one that would wake and rouse the creatures of the dark to their nightly rituals. Edges softened, shadows bred, multiplied, and paced alongside the intruder, watching warily. Only glimmers of sliver betrayed them, before disappearing without a breath into the arms of the trees.

The intruder smiled gently to herself, not so much as lifting her chin to acknowledge the legion about her. As imperturbable as stone, she continued.

Night crept out and tailed her as she traveled, now coming up upon the distant glows of fires and lifting smell of flesh and murmurs of distant communication. It was here that she paused in her confident line of movement to gently clutch up the excess of her shadow-gray cloak, revealing the deceptively delicate body beneath, and stepped over a long twined string running just fractionally above the earth.

Overhead, the wings of a hawk thrashed quietly as it lifted into the sky. She smirked again at the primacy but reliability of such defensive tactics, and stopped where she stood. No extra haste was exerted, no undignified sound of surprise uttered, no emotion not carefully preened and flattened into place. When she heard the body land behind her and felt the breath of air from the lance settled against her back, the smile merely spread beneath the hood and remained poised.

"_Gukihei hienn!_" the voice hissed at her, not sounding nearly as welcoming as she would have expected it. The point of the finely ground obsidian and trimmed with hawk feathers was circling just between her shoulder blades, more than willing to cut the living flesh between it should she attempt to resist. "_Ki-rwen mikanrouhei yem qo_." He made it no uncertain point that she was uninvited and prodded her again.

"I am a guest. I will not leave here," she said lightly, keeping her arms crossed daintily beneath the cloak, even when he prodded her again and demanded a more submissive posture in his hissing, gruff voice. When he barked at her for her insubordination, she turned her head, turning a thin and angry mouth on him. She shocked him with his own language in an icy tone. "I am no dirty _hienn_, so I suggest you kindly hold that tongue. Or I will rip it from you."

"Inodi," another voice intervened, and the sharp point relented. Another softened shadow emerged and sharpened, guided by a pair of equally sharp black eyes, tightly pulled black hair, and attentive slate-gray ears. He approached the intruder from the front, holding his own weapon at his side, and stared at the delicate pink lips that smiled impassively at him beneath the shadow of the hood.

The first voice rose again, and he clutched his white bone hunting spear. "But she's _hienn_. We can't let her just stroll in here. She'll betray our position to someone."

"No, she will not," he rebutted, turning his almond-shaped eyes on the younger Neko and flattening his ears in no uncertain display of promised aggression. The younger capitulated and recoiled back into the legion waiting. The older turned back to the intruder and continued in his native tongue.

"She's an ally who lives in a false skin. She is Neko by birth."

"Why, I'm flattered," she murmured gently, pulling down her hood and letting her long blonde hair fall free into the dim green light. All she had was her feline smirk to respond with. "But let's not waste our time. There's work to be done and I did not walk all this way simply for the pleasantries."

* * *

Midnight was no time for telephone calls, good news or otherwise. It was that damned ringing that was keeping him from sharing a large, downy, and decidedly nonpolitical bed with a warmth-seeking Heero and yes, even a jealous dog lying heavily on his feet. Night rarely brought sleep, but it was the rare place he could find rest. It was the tiniest echo of events in New York that tossed the entire Maxwell-Yuy household into bright, loud, and tumultuous life again in the dead of night. Had Duo's humor not been strangled with fury and his sarcasm shattered by exhaustion and unending frustration with the world and its overabundance of idiocy, he might have made some comment to the effect that there's no sleep for the wicked. But that was not in his nature at this point. No, not with the phone buzzing with the anxious voices of his advisors chattering in fear, not with Peacecraft's unwelcome face flickering over and over again like an inexhaustible slot machine on the twenty-four hour news, casting an eerie blue light across Quatre's face as he sat squarely in front of the television and watched raptly and silently. Joker laid by his side, but watched Duo and Heero moving about the room instead.

He still felt the cold clutch of rage at the thought that his mistakes and Peacecraft's long-standing hatred had reached even here, his safe haven, and now stole peace from his son. It was not fair. It made him want to throw all caution and hard-earned salvation to the wind and strangle him for waking Quatre up and making him wander down the hallway, squinting at the light, confused and tired.

Duo was slumped in the barstool, reclining against the wall with the phone cradled against his neck. All the lights were blazing, giving the illusion of day. Dark circles entrenched themselves beneath his eyes and his free hand was occupied with rubbing at his temple or scratching at the back of his head.

"No, no, no. No way on God's green earth. Why the hell should I? Lewis, I've been on the road for six months straight! I need a goddamned break—my family needs a goddamn break! We're more than a pair of wheels and keys to a hotel room. We've got a dog, a fridge on the fritz, and plans to actually spend time together. And none of them involve me picking up and shuttling over to New York just because that old codger finally gave up the fucking political ghost." It'd been two hours. A certain thick crease had formed between his brows as he waited for the response on the other end. "_Yes,_ I realize what's happening. But how the hell is that an Ambassador's problem? Call the fucking police or something!"

Heero was pacing the room like a chained dog on a dedicated route as he listened, always catching Duo's eye as he passed back, possessed by a firm and stony expression. He wanted to be curled up, lost in the oblivion of a warm bed and sleep. Duo was keeping solemn tally of all of these fresh wounds with Augustus Peacecraft, now former Senator of New York, firmly in mind.

"I am _not_ going to New York," Duo growled back. "I am staying here. There's nothing in my sentence that forbids me from taking a vacation with my family, is there?"

Heero had finally stopped his wolfish pacing and now stood opposite Duo across the kitchen island, watching his face gently but with fiery eyes. Joker kept her gaze steadily on him from where she was sitting in the adjoining living room, ears pricked in curiosity. She, too, had been roused from her snug resting-place by the frantic voice of the telephone and waited in vain for Heero to turn and pat his hip, calling her to bed. But what the dog could not know and what Quatre was sure of was the futility of that thought. There would be no sleeping tonight. Papa was going to leave.

Quatre saw it on the television long before Duo gave up the fight. Crowds had gathered, passing rage and upset between themselves, before moving out and smearing it, fire and sparking, across the city. He heard the voices of the newscaster and featured speakers, the analysts, the politicians. They were discussing how quickly and violently Peacecraft's supporters were reacting to the news of his resignation, how blatantly they turned blame against the Neko race he'd so long fought to keep from society at the risk of their tainting it. He watched them drag a suspected Neko descendant off the sidewalk and form a gnashing circle around him.

Quatre had heard such things before, but only now could he really see them as hateful, because their distant, reeling words were taking his father away from him, yanking him away on a leash. Vacation was over. Despite his fathers' best attempts, Quatre would see through the thinly veiled attempt to convince him it wasn't over, because it was.

Ears flattened sleepily, he blinked into the flickering colors of the screen, looked into eyes that really could not see him, nor understand him, and felt something settle in his stomach. Glancing over to Joker, he watched her stare and not comprehend. He scratched her neck and turned to look over his shoulder into the lights of the kitchen. Heero attempted to lower his voice as to keep the impending argument from drifting to him, but he often forgot that Quatre two, healthy sets of ears.

Forty minutes later, and a series of calls and consultations later, Duo stood beside the counter, the phone ragged and crushed by his fist, face pressed into his hands. His long, braided hair fell down his back, the tip swinging just at the small of his back. Heero hovered close in a similar position, his eyes lowered and small, worried grimace focused on the one-eared Neko. Quatre felt a pang he wasn't too young to recognize as lament, seeing Duo like this—barely clutching at control of his life.

"You shouldn't go," Heero said quietly. But it was not a gentle, accepting tone. "This has nothing to do with you."

Duo simply remained in the same, defeated position, shaking his head. "I said yes. It's too late for recanting it."

He couldn't resist a snort, though he knew it would come off sounding inappropriate and cruel. "That's not how you really feel, Duo. You've never followed the rules before. Break them and stay here. Screw them."

Duo dropped his hands and threw a narrow look at his husband. "I still don't appreciate you shoving me your level-headed wisdom at times like these, Traveler. I'm too damn _tired_ for this morality."

"Don't do it for me then. Do it for Quatre," Heero shot back. Duo had heaved a heavy sigh, staring off into nothing with a changing, confused, and completely irritated expression, ear flattened so hard it might rip at the seam. He clapped his hands on the back of neck and started wandering into the kitchen. "You promised both of us, and yourself, that you would take time off from all that."

"What, take time off from my _life_? This is what my life is now, Heero. You played a big part in it, if you'd be so kind to remember that! I wouldn't be here if you hadn't forced me to be!" He turned to glare at Heero, giving him the wild and unappreciative look he'd seen in the cab of a white truck. "So now I have to go, because that's all I'm allowed to live for. I'm fucking paperwork. That's all there is to it."

Heero did not budge in the face of fire in those violet eyes. "Stay here," he reiterated, dipping into a low, stony voice. "Please."

"Not my choice!" Duo barked at him, throwing his hands out. "Not _my_ _choice_!" Heero flinched internally at the double meaning the bohemian laced into those words, punctuating them with dark and exasperated eyes.

Heero stood silently where he was for a moment, his back towards the darkened living room and the flickering blue and white of the television, matching the strength in Duo's stare with his own. He waited until Duo stood awaiting his response hungrily, awaiting an opportunity to unleash the anger the roiled in him over his inability to control anything anymore, and spoke. "I don't ever regret your decision to take this way of life, Duo, and I certainly don't regret my promise to help you at every turn. I don't want you to, either. This life is better than none at all. Quatre owes you his life. If you had chosen to die back then, Duo, he would have burned with his village. We took him in; we owe him a decent family. It's time we spent some time, not on the road, and acted like one."

Duo shook his head. "But I still have to go," he mewled out, his voice cracking with sorrow and frustration. He huffed and looked aimlessly away. "Like I _want _to," he groaned. "And I'm so tired."

Quatre felt his hand slide off Joker's long dark fur as she slunk off to a soft corner to curl up and wait, leaving him alone in the middle of the room. He turned away when Heero moved close to Duo, lowering his voice as he touched his back and pressed their foreheads together, and purposely shut his ears out to them. Partly, it was out of respect for privacy, but the other part was the inability to stand the strangely painful awkwardness of Duo crying out of tiredness and toothless fury and Heero silently standing and suffering with him.

* * *

The crack of soft golden light spread and jumped across Quatre's dim room, eclipsing the square of moonlight on the floor which he had been watching, his back turned to the door, lumped underneath the covers. Quatre smelt that it was Heero, laced overtop with saline and stress and the smoky hints of hotel room, which lingered in all their luggage. Joker had come loping, lonely and whining softly, to Quatre's side and settled neatly on the floor beside his bed. As his silhouette fell across her, she awoke and trotted up to him, wagging her tail for forgiveness for nothing but seeking reassurance all the same. With a rub of the ears and jowls, he sent her off to find and cheer Duo.

Quatre determinedly feigned sleep. Even when Heero quietly pushed the door halfway close and came silently to the side of his bed, implying in that universal way with his weight on the mattress that he needed to talk with him, he keep his eyes fixed on the wall, ears twitching sleepily against the pillow. In days past, on hotel beds and makeshift nests of blankets collected around an airplane seat, Heero had the habit of touching his nearest ear and running his hand down his blond hair, but did not this night. He looked down on Quatre's curled up figure and halfway smiled.

"You can't fool me," he told him. "You're not asleep. You were just watching the TV and no Neko falls asleep that fast, Quat. Especially not your father."

With a little sigh and more resentment at being stirred from his rest than he actually felt, he flipped over and looked up at the face of his _hienn _father. Here he would have expected a half-smirk and a ruffle of the hair, but instead found a more profound expression that made him hesitate. Heero always smiled when he stopped in to say goodnight, whether Quatre liked it or not, but tonight his face was still and serious and painted by the light from the hallway. Humor left his voice as well, replaced by quiet.

"Duo's going to New York. There's no choice about it, so we'll have to put a rain check on the vacation." He did his best not to indulge himself and make some ill-mannered comment about the bastards who were at fault for it, though he knew Duo would have. He knew Quatre was impressionable, and very important for the future. "I'm going to drive him to the airport. Do you want to come with?"

Quatre glanced down towards the glowing doorway, where he could distantly here Joker whining gently. He looked back up and asked, "How long will he be gone?"

"A while."

"But how long is a while?"

Heero shook his head sadly, in a pained and honest manner normally reserved for more private times. "I don't know. A few days, maybe? No one can tell at this point," he explained. "There's been a lot of violence there. It may not end for a few more days, and your father's obligated to act as intermediary there. People are getting hurt."

"You mean _dires_ are getting hurt. People are attacking half-breeds."

Heero furrowed his brow a little, surprised by Quatre's statement. "Nekos _are_ people. No matter what their pedigree." He watched the Equitorial's ears flatten slightly in submission at his tone of voice and felt a pang of regret at using such a rough intonation at the young Neko.

"Hey."

Both Heero and Quatre turned to see Duo standing in the doorway, already wearing a black baseball cap. Heero felt his heart drop slightly, but turned his attention again to Quatre.

"So, do you want to come with?"

Quatre wasted little time in cracking a yawn and pulling the blankets tighter over his legs where he sat. "No, not really," he mumbled sleepily.

Heero finally released a halfway smile, though the other half seemed desecrated by exhaustion and old memories and never made it to his face. "Alright." With a light ruffle of his hair and kiss on the forehead, he stood up and looked to his husband in the doorway. "You ready?"

"Always," the Bohemian answered, the bitterness in his voice like a bell sounding in the distance to Quatre, but deafening and most definitely disheartening to Heero. Always ready to lay down and die, he slurred without a word. Without making another sound, he slung his luggage bag over his shoulder and his silhouette disappeared from the glowing doorframe. Heero hesitated, feeling the poignant spike in the air when he left Quatre without a goodbye, but gave Quatre another soft smile and said, "See you later. Just don't let anybody in while we're gone, okay?"

Quatre, who had curled up within the safe warmth of his bed on his side, blankets framing his round, young face, just nodded and smiled weakly. When his other father shut the door behind him, cutting off the glowing light, leaving him just with the moonlight, something changed within that he didn't understand, but recognized nonetheless.

* * *

"Just remember I love you," Heero said, as he and the one-eared Neko stood at the gate, facing each other. Duo had just been busily fiddling with the envelope holding his ticket, constantly flipping it over and over, reading each number and insignia and lashing it with a secretly furious look, as if a sour stare would remedy his situation. Behind them, the dawn was breaking over the terminal and filling the enormous scenic windows and the sky lighting gently in expectance of the sun. To the far north, a dark storm loud was crawling southward, spitting rain towards the earth. The jagged buildings in the distance were dark and inaccessible, as if already joining in to reject Duo from his newly found home.

For God's sake, they'd only been there for a week. Heero had bought that house months ago for them all to live in together, and as soon as they all had set foot on solid ground again on the same continent, he was jerked away on his leash. He would have thought the collar would have simply choked him by now and spared him such an unfair shackle. He felt that stinging, heavy weight like a hot knife in his chest when Heero looked up at him, holding him still with eyes so dark blue it hurt, and reminded him that he loved him. It was completely unfair.

"I know it is," Heero told him, though Duo could barely see through the haze of exhaustion tempered by rage to tell if he'd actually spoken out loud.

His body was thrumming as it worked frantically to keep him going, despite his heightened endurance, and his mind scrapped to find semblance of stability that would keep him from lashing out at everyone around him. The best thing about Heero at times like these was his strange and sudden inability to be shy in any location. Duo felt him put his hand on his wrist and ease the ticket envelope down, which was already wrinkled and worried. He eased forward until Duo's head slid into place, resting on his shoulder, and put his arms around him, still holding the hot coffee he'd bought in one hand.

"God, Traveler," he muttered into his coat, "I'm cutting off your subscription to Lifetime when I get back home."

Heero reached up with his good hand and eased Duo's face up to look at him. "The last time I forgot to say something important to you, you drugged me and got yourself arrested," he said, chuckling gently. "I'm just covering all my bases, Duo."

"Yeah, but don't you think I already know that?"

Heero closed the gap between them and kissed him, not really paying mind to the small audience they'd worked up, who had all looked up from their paperback novels to watch the exchange. When he parted, doing only a halfway job of it, he answered, "Yeah. I do it mostly to hear you say you love me. It's much more fulfilling."

Duo laughed as he laughed and pushed him away. "You jerk," he said, still smiling. "Maybe I won't say it, then."

Heero just stood, holding his coffee. "Then no caffeine," he taunted, raising that dare within his eyes.

But Duo would give in and say it, that he loved him, because he had to board the plane soon or feel completely unable to leave Heero and destroy the entire gate just to stay with him.


End file.
